Middle Britania
by Suzume Jun
Summary: America and Romano end up traveling into the past to King Arthur's time period. Needless to say what they learn both shocks and disillusions them. But before they can do anything about it they have to get back to the present.


Middle Britannia

Chapter one: Strange Arrivals

Summary: America and Romano end up traveling into the past to King Arthur's time period. Needless to say what they learn both shocks and disillusions them. But before they can do anything about it they have to get back to the present.

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it

- America -

Long red and brown streaked hair and large emerald green eyes are the first thing I see once the world has come back into focus. Blinking a little I see that an implacably familiar teenage boy looking down at me, his lips are moving but I neither hear a sound nor understand what I'm reading from his lips. The ground under me feels wrong, more like a forest floor than the tile paneling of the meeting room.

Panic grows in me faster than the concern which is starting to show more and more on the face of the stranger kneeling next to my lying form. Glancing around does nothing to lower it as all that happens is confirmations.

Somewhat familiar boy with large eyebrows (About thirteen?)

Horses (A Clydesdale breed pony was standing the closest the the two of us I believe. But it's been a while since my western days.)

Dirt floor and many trees (Forrest.)

Other men all armed with swords and/or bows and arrows are gathered around ready to attack should I prove to be dangerous.

A young man with a sword at his side and dressed in the funny clothes I've seen in medieval movies (Just like the rest of the strangers, What? Don't they own a nice comfortable pair of jeans? Am I at some type of role play event?) Stands next to a much older man with a staff, both watching the scene before them carefully. The younger man seeming almost over protective of the boy at my side despite the fact he hasn't moved from that one spot.

Sound.

"non audieritis me?" (Can you hear me?) The boy says though I can't understand him I think it might be that Latin language Feliciano had been teaching me for a while...

"NOLITE TANGERE!" (DON'T TOUCH ME!)That was definitely Lovino's voice that caught the attention of the Latin(?) speaking boy immediately. His eyes narrowing at the struggling Italian, hand resting on the hilt of his own sword but not drawing.

What must have been orders leave his lips and I'm becoming more and more certain the language is Latin as the man holding a pissed off Lovino at sword point grumbles but backs away from the Italian as the boy approaches him.

- Romano -

"Step down he's unarmed!" A voice that sounds disturbingly like a younger softer version of the Tea Bastard's orders and the blonde bastard in front of me lowers his sword and backs up a few steps. Muttering under his breathe about "No good Romans" and "Kill them before they bring any more trouble." I go to snarl an insult at the idiot but the words die in my throat. Approaching me, small calloused hand ready to draw his sword at a moment's notice, is a thirteen year old Tea Bastard...

However, despite how sure I am that the boy is England he doesn't completely look like him.

He had the same eyebrows yet they weren't so overpowering and obnoxious on his face.

Emerald orbs had a wild look to them that would fade as the Englishman grew older and so far his body hadn't caved to the stress of being a personification.

His proud stance was more rebelliousness then the echo of a once great empire and there was a strength in him that both backed it up and spoke of a hard childhood.

He was wearing clothing that seemed a blast from my past with the Tomato Bastard. Barefoot, he had on a brown pair of threadbare tights with a patch over the left knee and a slightly large dull green tunic that ended just above his knees and had 3/4 sleeves. There was a sword that swung on his left side held in place by a thick belt that rested around his hips and a sheath of arrows was slung across the young body, bow tied to the pony that stood partially unattended next to a really old guy with a staff. What threw me off the most though was his hair.

What should have been a short mop of brittle straw-like blond hair was a silky braid of blood red strands that ended just below his waist.

"Who are you?" He asks me in Latin more perfect than I had heard in centuries even from my own people. There is distrust evident plain as day in his eyes but conflicting concern showing on his face.

"Lovino Var-" I answer only to dodge out of the way of the boy's sword. Three arrows flying in the direction that one suddenly appeared from before being blocked by the teen's sword.

A body falls from on of the trees and a few of the men leave the circle to fetch it.

The red head turns his head to look at the young man standing next to the staff holding one with a questioning gaze, receiving an affirmative nod for whatever he was asking England then turns back to me.

"We should get back to camp, you can tell us why you're here when we get there." He says, voice leaving no room for argument, and by the movement of the others I can tell I really do have no choice in the matter. However, it wasn't until the next words passed his lips that I feel my blood run cold...

"Grandson of Rome."

The words were whispered so low that only I could hear and even then it was a strain. Normally I wouldn't be bothered by the identification, proud as I was of my Grandfather's achievements, but there was something in the way he said it, in the edge his voice took on in that moment and his eyes flashed dangerously, that I felt as if that connection I never really had with Rome anyway was going to be the death of me here.

The words dripped from his lips like a sweet tasting poison...


End file.
